


get loose

by starboykeith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts, Humour, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Pining Remus Lupin, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: The Yule Ball comes to Hogwarts, and Remus resigns himself to going without a date.That is, until Sirius starts acting strange.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 50
Kudos: 349





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wondered for a long time what my first fic for a different fandom would be, and it turned out to be an old flame. god i miss these boys

November dawns crisp and cold, fat clouds threatening snow already and the Quidditch grounds hard and unforgiving with ice. It gets crisper and colder when James tears back Remus’ curtains and jumps onto his bed.

“Prongs,” Remus groans. James is quickly joined by Sirius, who throws himself down with such force Remus smacks his head on the headboard. He exchanges a plaintive glance with Peter, who’s clearly already undergone this treatment and is sitting up, yawning. “What could possibly be so important?” Remus grouses, as if James and Sirius don’t do this twice a week anyway.

James goes first, which tells Remus that he’s the source of the excitement and Sirius is just playing along to be annoying. “Dumbledore’s gonna announce the Yule Ball today,” he breathes. “Now’s my chance!”

“Prongs is asking Lily first thing,” Sirius informs him.

“Really?” Remus says, rubbing his eyes and kicking James when he’s in reach. “I would never have guessed.”

The Great Hall is more animated than it’s been all year, humming with excitement and a frenzy of teenage hormones. Remus concentrates on his pumpkin juice and pretends not to see Marlene Mckinnon staring a hole into the side of Sirius’ head. Lily is doing the same, studiously ignoring James’ gaze, and Peter elbows him in the side just as Dumbledore stands and the hall is swept with sudden silence.

“There has been rampant speculation since the Sorting Hat’s address,” Dumbledore says, commanding every student’s attention, “that Hogwarts will be hosting a Yule Ball this very Christmas. I am pleased to confirm that such rumours are true.”

His announcement causes almost every student to giggle and whisper amongst themselves. Remus makes eye contact with Sirius’ cousin Bellatrix and hastily averts his eyes. He’s almost surprised to see the Slytherins vibrant with excitement but, he supposes, any ball is the perfect place to be centre of attention, to show off your dancing skills and ability to obtain the most in-demand date. Or so Remus assumes, because he’s never been to a ball and has no intention of attending this one.

He tunes out the rest of Dumbledore’s speech, only jumping to attention when an envelope falls into his lap. Looking around, everyone has an identical letter — a formal invitation to the Hogwarts Yule Ball. Remus flips it open at the others’ insistence, barely interested but spurred on by Sirius’ enthusiasm, and his heart drops to his stomach when he reads that the dress code is formal robes only.

That settles it, then.

“That does _not_ settle it,” Sirius insists after breakfast. “We’ll find you something, Moony! I could—“

“Absolutely not,” Remus says, interrupting what he’s sure will be an offer of financial help he could never repay. Sirius abhors his family money, but he’s willing to throw it around for a good cause. Remus doesn’t consider himself a good cause.

“Mum sent me two sets,” James pipes up suddenly. “My old dress robes, and the ones I got for this year. You can borrow my old ones.”

“How have you already got dress robes?” Peter asks, suspicious. “Planning ahead, are we?”

James blushes crimson. “The Sorting Hat said—“

“Yeah, but it wasn’t _confirmed_ ,” Sirius says. He ruffles James’ hair. “You really are desperate, Prongs.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” James says firmly. “Moony, you can have my old ones. Really.”

“Done,” Sirius declares smugly.

Remus dithers for a moment, knowing full well that even James’ hand-me-downs will be in better condition than the clothes Remus can afford new, before nodding. “Fine,” he says, and the others cheer. “I hope you all know me and Peter will be sat in the corner playing chess all evening.”

Peter looks shifty. Shiftier than usual.

“Wormtail,” Remus says weakly.

“I’m going home for Christmas,” Peter squeaks.

Sirius launches himself off his bed. “Coward!” he shouts, hitting Peter with a Bat-Bogey hex and raising his wand threateningly for more.

“Padfoot, he’s on _my bed_ —“ James roars, diving for Sirius, and Remus sits back and laughs until his sides hurt.

* * *

James wants to ask Lily that very night, but they convince him to wait. “Gotta play it cool, Prongs,” Sirius says, slapping James on the back and making him cough. “Don’t want her to think you’re too eager.”

“But I am,” James says miserably.

Sirius sighs theatrically, throwing himself on the sofa next to Remus and plucking the book from his hands. “Have to make ‘em wait, don’t you, Moony?” he says, and Remus knows he’s only joking, but it’s a needle in his heart all the same.

“I wouldn’t know,” he snaps. “Accio.” 

Sirius curses and shakes his fingers as the book is ripped from them. Remus opens it to the page he was on but can’t bring himself to start reading as James says, “Who are you asking, then?”

There’s a silence as James and Sirius presumably exchange a glance, but Remus doesn’t look up, biting his lip hard. Sirius snuggles up against him, head on his shoulder by way of apology, and says, “Dunno yet. It’s only been a day, James.”

“Leave it too late and the good ones’ll be gone,” James says wisely, as if he’s an expert ladies’ man and not in a monogamous unrequited relationship. He’s dated around, sure, but everyone knows he’s waiting for Lily, that the joke isn’t actually a joke and it does hurt James when Lily hits back with her usual stinging retort.

Sirius, on the other hand… well. Remus has spent many long nights in the library trying not to imagine what Sirius is doing with his ‘dates’. Sirius isn’t obvious about it by any means, an expert at silencing charms by now and never rubbing it in anyone’s face but James’, but Remus sees the way girls look at him, can’t help but notice murmured conversations at breakfast and in classes and in the common room. He thought this heightened awareness of Sirius’ exploits would have faded over the summer, but from the moment he’d stepped onto the train and Sirius hugged him so hard his ribs had creaked, Remus knew he was ruined.

It’d only gotten worse since then, trying not to stare when he saw Sirius with a girl, trying not to tense up when Sirius touched him, trying not to react too much, either, because he didn’t want to scare Sirius off. He’d told Peter at a weak moment in September and regretted it ever since. Peter was subtle, sure, but Remus could do without the waggling eyebrows and smug smirk. He just couldn’t take it anymore, the weight of yet another secret, and Peter had followed Remus when he slipped out of the common room trying to calm his racing heart, the sight of Sirius joyfully embracing Marlene and kissing her cheek too much for him.

He’s glad Peter isn’t here now.

“This is why you’ll never be cool,” Sirius tells James. “Desperate, I tell you.”

“I wouldn’t ask Marlene the night before,” Remus says, dazed and distracted as Sirius nuzzles against his neck and relieved when Sirius sits up with a frown. “She’ll have your bollocks for breakfast.”

“Who said I was asking Marlene?” Sirius asks, scowling. At a glance from James, he seems to realise he’s overreacting. Remus wonders if he and Marlene have been arguing again. On, off, on, off, ever since first year… it’s got to be exhausting. He supposes it’s better than having girls scared of you, though, and the only attention _he’s_ ever had from girls stank of pity. “I don’t know yet,” Sirius says eventually. He relaxes, putting his feet up on the coffee table, but doesn’t cuddle up to Remus again. Remus doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, sure that Sirius would have heard his heart banging against his ribs. “Way I see it, I’ve got my pick of the lot.”

James perches on the arm of the sofa, and Remus resigns himself to never finishing this book. “You gonna ask someone, Moony?”

“Maybe Lily and I will go as friends,” Remus says with dignity, annoyed with the whole conversation but unable to keep himself from laughing as James tumbles into their laps, eyes narrowed and pointing a finger in Remus’ face.

“She’d say yes to you and all,” Sirius says, laughing and ducking James’ hex, which rebounds off a disgruntled picture frame and hits Peter just as he enters the common room. Remus is laughing too hard to help, so it’s Sirius who wiggles out from under James’ weight and unties Wormtail, who curses them all and refuses to share his Potions homework with James for a week.

The week is just about up when James announces he’s asking Lily to the ball that day.

“I’m shocked you waited this long,” Remus says dryly. “Murray’s probably asked her by now.”

“What?!” James panics, dropping his tie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He’s winding you up,” Peter says, half-hanging off his bed. His post-Transfiguration nap almost always makes them late for Charms, but Remus has long since accepted there’s nothing to be done about it. “You think Murray’s got the balls to ask Lily?”

“You think James has?” Remus asks, getting swatted by James for his trouble.

“You’ll warm her up for me, right Moony?”

“ _Warm her up_?” Remus repeats, indignant on Lily’s behalf. “She’s my Charms partner, not a lasagne!”

Nevertheless, Lily seems in good enough spirits during Charms, and Remus gives James a thumbs-up. Not that he’s endorsing this ridiculous scheme, and not that he expects Lily to say yes.

She brings up the Yule Ball first, surprisingly enough, freeing Remus from the obligation of finding a segue in order to soften James’ rejection later. “You’re going, right?” Lily asks him. “Please say you are. I can’t deal with Potter and Black on their own all evening. And I want to dance with you.”

Remus almost swallows his tongue. “You want to dance with _me_?” he splutters, drawing a filthy glare from James a few seats down.

Lily looks affronted. “You’re my friend, Remus! Of course I do.” She concentrates for a minute or so, eyes narrowing as she attempts the charm again.

“Good work, Ms. Evans!” Professor Locke exclaims as he passes, and Lily gives him a dazzling smile.

“There, now we can talk,” she says, and Remus wonders at how alike she and James can be sometimes. Schemers, the both of them. “Have you got a date?”

“Me? Of course not,” Remus says. He attempts the charm himself and the marble they’re practising on turns an alarming shade of yellow. “I’ll go alone, _obviously_.”

“Not obviously,” Lily argues, returning the marble to normal and indicating for him to try again. “You’re a catch, Remus, you really are. Any girl would be lucky to go with you.”

“No one here, I’m afraid,” Remus says glumly. “You’re welcome at my table once Sirius and James ditch me. Unless you’ll be dancing the night away — who are you going with?”

To his surprise, Lily goes a little pink. “No one yet,” she says. “I’ll probably go with a friend. You’re welcome at _our_ table if your terrible friends betray you.”

“Ah, they’re not too terrible,” Remus says, distracted as he tries the charm again and grinning when it works.

“Even so,” Lily says, somewhat haughtily. “By the way, Slughorn told me to tell you he’s having a get-together later this month. Invitations in the mail. I’ll expect you to rescue me from my allergies again.”

Remus makes a short bow, deferring to the lady. “My honour,” he drawls. “I’ll always be here to save you from shellfish.”

“Godawful thing to serve at a dinner party,” Lily says, then quickly shushes him as Locke steps up to the front again.

Remus likes to distance himself from James and his schemes, hoping to maintain his friendship with Lily outside of James making a fool of himself, so he hangs back as James enters the courtyard, faithful Wormtail half a step behind him. He notices Snape a second after James does, watching James’ lip curl to see Lily and Snape sharing a bench, but suddenly Lily snaps at him, delicate features creasing into a scowl. Remus can tell something’s upset her, but James keeps going and Remus winces, starting to move in an attempt to yank James back, but he’s too late.

“Is this Slytherin bothering you, Evans?” he asks breezily.

Snape looks taken aback, ashamed of himself, and Remus feels the burn of smug satisfaction despite bearing Snape less of a grudge than James and Sirius do. Snape being taken down a peg by Lily is just poetic justice.

Lily’s hands are twisting in her lap, but James fixes his gaze above and to the left of her so he doesn’t have to face the situation head on. Remus knows suddenly something is wrong, worse than Lily and Snape having a mild disagreement, and Remus approaches them having missed James’ actual proposal. He can guess at its contents, having witnessed James practising in the mirror for the last week, but none of them could have guessed at Lily’s reaction.

Lily’s flushed, fair skin red as a tomato as she jumps to her feet, wand in hand. “You boys!” she exclaims. She rounds on Snape first, stamping a foot in agitation, robes billowing out around her. “ _You_ don’t own me! You think you have some kind of claim — you haven’t spoken to me in _weeks_!”

Snape stutters, and James laughs cruelly, but he’s quickly cut short.

“And you!” Lily says, stabbing a finger in his face. James gulps. “Take a hint, would you? I’d rather go to the ball with a Grindylow!”

Snape’s retrieved her bag from the ground, meekly holding it out to her, and she snatches it and storms off. There’s a smattering of laughter around the courtyard once she’s gone, but James tosses them all a glare and they shut up. James grabs Peter and Remus’ arms and sets a quick pace that has even Remus struggling to keep up. Peter is red in the face by the time they reach the Gryffindor common room, which falls silent as James clatters across the room and upstairs.

He’s pacing by the time they make it up the stairs, Sirius nowhere to be found. Remus and Peter exchange a glance, unsure what mood James is in.

“Did you hear?” James exclaims.

“Think we heard, mate,” Peter ventures cautiously, shrinking back when James rounds on him.

“Not _that_!” he hisses. “Before! Snivellus was asking her to the ball!”

“ _Snape_?” Peter says at the same time Remus rolls his eyes and says, “Well, they are _friends_ , James—”

James gets in his face, hazel eyes round and bright with glee. “Not anymore!”

The door bangs open, revealing Sirius with a resigned expression that he quickly conceals once he sees them all looking. “Where’s the fire?” he says lazily.

“You’ll never guess what, Padfoot!”

“She said yes?”

“Nothing that exciting,” James says, waving the rejection away. “ _Snivellus_ asked _Evans_ to the bloody Yule Ball!”

Sirius and Peter provide James with the raucous laughter he’s seeking, but Remus bites his lip and goes to his bedside drawer, grabbing parchment and a quill and penning a quick note. His owl, Sol, comes when he whistles and carries it out of sight. Only offering an ear should Lily have need of it, but he had to say something. Everyone’s noticed that Lily and Snape have been spending less time together this year, the peculiar Gryffindor-Slytherin friendship finally succumbing to what most believed was fated from the start. Everyone knew Gryffindors and Slytherins couldn’t be friends, no matter how affable Slughorn was, and the last thing Lily needs is another ‘I told you so’.

Despite James’ glee at Snape’s expense, Remus isn’t surprised later when James crawls into his bed, eyes glossy with unshed tears and an unspoken plea, and Remus rolls onto his back and lets James curl around him.

“Knowing it was gonna happen,” James whispers into Remus’ gradually dampening shirt, “doesn’t make it hurt any less, you know?”

“I know,” Remus says quietly, running a hand through James’ hair. “It’ll be okay, Prongs. We’ll go together, yeah?”

“Only if you dance with me,” James says. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and Remus groans. “Get over it, Moony. I’m a snotty man.”

“Git,” Remus mutters, and James laughs, still trembling a little. Remus watches James twitch in his sleep for a while before he succumbs to it himself, facing each other like two crescent moons, wondering if it would be worth it to go through such heartbreak just so he wouldn’t be alone.

* * *

His questions are renewed the next day, returning from History of Magic alone and catching the tail-end of Marlene’s conversation with Sirius. He hesitates just inside the passage, the portrait huffing in annoyance at his close proximity.

“You’re too late, Black,” Marlene is saying. They’re friends first, always have been, but there’s a hint of bitterness in her voice nevertheless. Remus wonders if it stung that Marlene hadn’t had to cancel on anyone when Lily asked to go as friends. “Better luck next time.”

Remus waits until he hears a door slam upstairs before entering the common room, discovering Sirius wearing his stupid sexy leather jacket, head in his hands. He jumps upright when he hears Remus, twisting his downtrodden expression into something only _slightly_ less bleak.

“Did you ask her, then?” Remus asks, swallowing down the nerves that always choke him when he talks to Sirius about Marlene, fearing that any day now, Sirius will announce he’s fallen in love at last.

“Nah,” Sirius says, looking like he was about to crack a joke and thought better of it. “She was, uh, informing me she is no longer available.”

“Bit presumptuous,” leaves Remus’ mouth without permission, but Sirius nods.

“Exactly, Moony. They think they own me, I swear.”

“Who’re you gonna ask?” Remus says. It comes out as a demand.

Sirius takes it as a joke and laughs, thank God. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he says knowingly.

 _And satisfaction brought it back_ , Remus thinks, but saying it would be suspicious, even for him. “Probably the dog, too,” he opts for instead, making Sirius snort.

Remus sits beside him on the sofa where Marlene had been sitting. “For real, though,” he says quietly. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do it anymore,” Sirius says, somewhat miserably. “She wants so much, and… it’s just not her I’m interested in.”

“You like someone?” Remus says, voice cracking right down the middle.

Sirius almost goes to deny it, a mask he usually reserves for his family slipping into place, but he smiles at the last second, something designed to tug Remus’ heartstrings. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he says, soft as his smile. He looks up then, catching Remus’ eyes and shifting closer to him. Remus’ heart leaps into his throat, terrified of this great secret Sirius is about to divulge and gaze slipping helplessly to Sirius’ mouth.

Peter stumbles into the common room with a great clatter. Sirius’ eyes widen and he stands up, turning away from Remus and taking an audible breath. Remus bites the inside of his cheek, still tough with scar tissue despite it having been three weeks since he last turned.

“Duel in the corridor!” Peter cries breathlessly, and Sirius grabs Remus’ hand to pull him up, confession forgotten. It wasn’t exactly warm, no one having tended the fire all day, but Sirius’ hands were sweaty. He ran hot, a dog at heart, but this was different. Remus hadn’t thought anything made Sirius nervous.

Through some grace of Merlin, his transformation a week later wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Remus examines his newest injuries in the hospital wing the next day and deduces that they might even heal nicely in time for the ball. Not that he has anyone to bother looking nice for. Sirius is still tight-lipped about his date and Remus feels put-out: usually his time of the month is the easiest time to persuade the Marauders to do him favours.

“I’m going without a date,” James announces. “I’m a free agent.”

“Bet he’ll still dance with half the female population,” Sirius stage-whispers, and James hits him.

Remus smiles wearily, just happy to lie here and be with his friends. Madame Palmer bustles to and fro, occasionally sticking him with a spell or forcing a foul potion down his throat, and eventually she approaches and says, “Potter, Black, I’ve been informed you both should be in detention.”

“Bugger,” Sirius says. He flashes Remus a grin that makes Remus’ heart flip in his chest. Palmer’s wand beeps at the disturbance to Remus’ vitals.

“You best be going,” Remus says quickly.

Peter sighs once they’re gone, loud in the silence. “I don’t even know what they’re in for,” he says mournfully, and Remus shakes his head. “I did wanna talk to you, though.”

Remus eyes him with suspicion, self-conscious about the heart monitor and paranoid that Sirius will suddenly appear and overhear them. “About?”

“The ball.”

“Oh, that.” Remus waves his hand dismissively. “You know, I don’t even think I’ll be going.”

“What?” Peter demands. “Why?”

“Why are you so invested?” Remus asks, confused. “Look, it’s only a couple days before the full moon. I’ll be a mess. Last thing I’ll want to do is watch Sirius prance around with Marlene.” Peter raises an eyebrow, and Remus hastily adds, “Or watch Prongs beg Lily for a dance all evening. Both just as bad.”

Peter speaks slowly, which is uncharacteristic and puts Remus’ back up. Peter doesn’t do anything slowly — eating, talking, scurrying on his little paws — and he doesn’t stop to think about anything, either. “Look, Moony. You didn’t hear this from me, but someone really wants you to go. I promise.”

Palmer’s wand beeps again, and Peter politely ignores it. “And you’re not gonna tell me who,” Remus says dully.

“Wouldn’t be a secret then, would it?”

“You’ve already told me half of it!” Remus exclaims, and immediately feels Palmer’s eyes on them. They duck their heads closer together. “Fine,” Remus hisses. “I’ll go. But if I sit in the corner miserable all evening, I’m sending you a howler.”

Remus hates himself for being so intrigued. Girls have never been interested in him, and he’s too smart to get his hopes up now. He doesn’t even dare dream that it’s a guy. But he knows Wormtail wouldn’t wind him up about something like this; it’s always them commiserating over being alone while Padfoot and Prongs are the real charmers, guys who have girls crawl all over them without even trying. Despite James and Sirius’ many assurances that scars of all kinds are sexy and badass, Remus has never come across a girl who hasn’t winced upon seeing his face close-up. Except Lily, and Remus has never had any designs on Lily.

She never replied to his note, but he didn’t expect her to — it must have been a humiliating enough day without having to talk to someone outside her inner circle about it. A few days later, he meets her in the Gryffindor common room so they can walk to Slughorn’s together. Of all the celebrated students, he can’t help but feel they stick out the most — the genius Muggle-born and the weird kid who attended every other meeting covered in scratches and scars.

Lily exclaims over his new injuries, as he knew she would, and wonders that Palmer couldn’t do more for him.

“I’ve a good mind to talk to her myself,” she says furiously, and Remus can’t help but smile, pulling his stitches.

They have a few drinks — “Between us, mind you,” Slughorn says, a little boozy already — and Lily’s cheeks get more and more flushed. Remus doesn’t indulge much, not even when James brings out his Firewhisky stash. He has too many secrets to spill. Lily does, too, admitting quietly to Remus that she doesn’t mind ‘that Potter’ so much, anymore.

“Don’t go telling him that,” she says, frowning.

“Why, Ms. Evans,” Remus says, hand on heart, “I would never.”

They part ways in the common room, Remus waiting until he hears Lily’s door shut before venturing upstairs himself. Peter and James are snoring, unabashed with curtains open, but Sirius is awake, sitting on Remus’ bed.

“You alright, Padfoot?” Remus asks, concerned.

Sirius smiles, but it’s a little sad. “I’m alright,” he says, and sniffs the air suddenly. Remus is still standing in the doorway, trying not to sway. “You’ve been drinking,” Sirius says, breaking into a grin. “Naughty.”

“That’s a better smile,” Remus observes, coming over and plopping down beside him. Sirius is dressed for bed, an old t-shirt and boxers, and Remus struggles to pull his robe over his head until warm hands bat him away. Sirius folds it when he’s done, his back to Remus, and Remus exchanges his undershirt for his pyjama shirt, opting to sleep in his boxers.

When he gets in bed, he pats the mattress for Sirius to join. They face each other, hands brushing in the space between them, and there’s an undeniable sadness in Sirius’ expression. Remus touches it, touches his furrowed brows, and there’s no mistaking Sirius’ intake of breath.

“You’re sad,” Remus says.

“I think I just miss you,” Sirius whispers, like it’s a secret too secret for the bed they’re sharing, curtains closed.

Remus doesn’t understand, and wishes he hadn’t let Slughorn press one more glass into his hand. “I’m right here, Sirius,” he says. Sirius smiles at him. “I have to turn over,” Remus announces regretfully.

Once he does, Sirius cuddles up behind him, cold knees pressing into Remus’ thighs as he slings an arm over Remus’ side. “Okay,” Sirius murmurs, breath stirring Remus’ hair. “Goodnight, Remus.”

“Night,” Remus echoes, and falls asleep between one blink and the next.

* * *

“Do I _have_ to go?” Wormtail whines, dragging his feet. “I’m not even going to the bloody ball.”

“I’m not being an atrocious dancer alone,” Remus hisses, grabbing Peter’s arm. “You _know_ those two have been dancing their whole lives.”

“Hey!” James says, affronted. “At least I didn’t take cotillion classes like Padfoot had to.”

They all have a laugh at that, imagining Sirius setting out cutlery in a precise order and learning to dance with Bellatrix and Narcissa. They’d tried to convince him to attend the dance class to no avail; Sirius point-blank refused to take a class in which he knew more than the teacher.

“Besides,” he’d said, “I don’t need Wormtail stepping on my precious toes.”

So the three of them go, and Remus is surprised to learn he doesn’t _hate_ it. Most everyone there was as bad as each other — the Black family had predictably skipped the class — and he has a good memory; he could handle some steps back and forth. He’s paired with someone he’s never met, a blessing in disguise because he isn’t afraid of embarrassing himself and it’s easy enough to imagine Sirius’ hands in his and at his waist, grip tightening as Remus lurches, off-balance.

James looks mildly constipated every time Remus catches a glimpse of him, and it’s not until later that Remus realises James is trying really hard at this, desperate to impress Lily should she take him up on his offer of a dance. James’ expression sticks for the next week, in which none of them can enter their bedroom without James roping them into a dance, catching them by the hand and spinning Remus into the wall one time too many.

“Aren’t you going to practise at all?” Remus asks Sirius one day. James is at Quidditch training and Peter went to watch, so it’s just the two of them lounging around before dinner.

“What, dancing?” Sirius asks lazily. He’s reading a novel charmed to look like a porn mag to the outsider, a relic from living at home over the summer, and Remus rolls his eyes and reverses the charm with a tap of his wand.

“She wouldn’t stop winking at me,” he mutters in response to Sirius’ smirk. “And yes, dancing. Surely your arrogance can only go so far—“

“You wound me, Moony.” Sirius puts the book down, giving Remus his full attention. “Come on, then. Show me what you learned.”

Remus grimaces. “I didn’t mean with _me_.”

“Too late,” Sirius says, smug as he jumps to his feet and offers Remus his hand. Remus gets to his feet with extreme reluctance. “I’ll lead, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” Remus mutters, taking Sirius’ hand and letting him swing them around.

Sirius places a hand on Remus’ waist, grinning when it makes him jump. “My shoulder, Moony,” he says, the smirk not leaving his face. “Come on, dear. You so wanted to see me in action.”

“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus says, exasperated as he brings his hand to Sirius’ shoulder. “You would make this harder than it has to be.”

Sirius raises their clasped hands, and Remus glances down at their socked feet as they start to move, doing his best to mimic Sirius’ sure movements. When he looks up, Sirius is already looking at him, satisfied expression shifting into something more delicate. Remus swallows and notes with annoyance that Sirius doesn’t need to look at his feet when he dances, confident in the steps he’d been trained in since he could walk.

And Sirius _is_ a good dancer, leagues ahead of the poor schmuck who’d been brought in to teach hapless students how to dance, and he grins when he twirls Remus for the first time, laughing as Remus’ hand lands on his shoulder a little harder than he intended.

“Lighten up, Remus,” Sirius says. His hand slides lower on Remus’ waist and Remus blushes, sure that it was deliberate and sure that it isn’t necessary. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Dancing to no music?”

“You’re keeping pretty good time,” Sirius says, and then he steps closer than the friendly distance they’d maintained thus far. Remus is sure Sirius can hear his heart racing, and from more than just the exercise. “Don’t be intimidated by my _expertise_ —”

“Intimidated? By you?” Remus retorts, and then Sirius knocks the breath out of him when he twirls Remus again and uses the momentum to pull Remus closer, chest to chest. Remus bites his lip and notices hesitance in Sirius’ expression for the first time. “Don’t think you’d pull that move at home,” Remus jokes weakly.

“I’m sure Regulus wouldn’t appreciate it,” Sirius says, smile reappearing. They’re moving slower now, and then Sirius stops moving altogether, letting them sway in place. Remus thinks his heart might beat out of his chest, relieved his growth spurt puts him a couple precious inches above Sirius; he doesn’t know how he’d handle looking Sirius right in the face. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Remus says, confused, and the shock of eye contact makes him step on Sirius’ foot.

“We’re not even moving, Moony, how did you—”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Remus says. Laughter puts him at ease, helps his fingers stop trembling where they’re held in Sirius’ own. “What were you gonna say?”

Sirius keeps looking at him in that way, eyes bright and the corners of his mouth tipping up in a tentative smile. “I was wondering,” he says haltingly, “if you wanted to go to the ball with me.”

Remus can’t help but sigh in relief. “Merlin, Sirius,” he says. “I thought you were going to ask me something important.” Sirius frowns at him, hand tightening on Remus’. “It’s sweet of you, but ask — I don’t know, ask Alice, ask Mary. You don’t need to pity me.”

Sirius drops his hand with a fierce expression. “I don’t pity you, you idiot,” he says furiously, and then his indignation melts away and he takes Remus’ hand again. “I’m not asking you… as a friend.”

“Oh,” leaves Remus’ mouth before his brain can catch up, and he can do nothing but stare. Sirius is fidgeting, embarrassed and flushed, but he doesn’t look away, eyebrows drawing together as Remus opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Sirius,” he manages eventually, “I didn’t know you…”

He wonders how he could have missed the signs, had there been many, of Sirius liking him back. Remus spends half his time overthinking the things Sirius says to him, overthinking every little touch and Sirius sitting too close to him on the sofa and climbing in his bed… but they all share each other’s beds, that was nothing out of the ordinary!

Remus thinks properly about the Yule Ball for the first time, how many people will be there, how _public_ it is. This isn’t like the handful of times he’s begged the others to attend one of Slughorn’s parties with him — that’s private, _exclusive_ though he hates to admit it — this is going to be attended by the vast majority of Hogwarts students. Remus feels a further flash of panic when he realises Sirius’ _family_ will be there, mad Bellatrix and cold Narcissa and Regulus skulking somewhere in the back, a loyal little brother at heart but still representing the threat of Sirius’ mother hearing about it.

Not that anyone’s going to know besides them; he knows they’ll all dance together — he and James, James and Sirius, _Sirius and him_ — and it’s not like Sirius is going to do something stupid like kiss him in front of everyone. He blushes at the thought.

“For Merlin’s sake, Moony, you can say no.”

“No!” Remus says quickly, snapping back to the present and catching Sirius’ uncertain expression as it disappears from his face. “I’d — I’d love to.”

The smile Sirius gives him then is brighter than the sun, the kind of memory that Remus could produce a Patronus from, and he can’t stop smiling himself, beaming stupidly at Sirius and finally regaining the brain function to take his hands back.

Remus misses when the look in Sirius’ eyes changes to intent, when he takes a step closer, even closer, places one hand on Remus’ shoulder and leans in. Remus only realises when Sirius’ mouth is a hair’s breadth from his own that he’s about to be kissed and there isn’t time to panic, not when Sirius is leaning closer and his eyes are closing and—

The door bangs off its hinges as James and Peter clatter into the room, engaged in a loud conversation about the abilities of Ravenclaw’s newest Chaser, but even they realise something’s going on, and fall silent.

It’s broken by James’ sudden cheer. “He said yes, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Sirius grits out, but he grins at Remus before turning and going for James’ throat. “Couldn’t have trained five minutes longer, James?” he yells over the sounds of their scuffle, and Remus laughs, stepping out of the line of fire. Peter smirks at him as he crosses the room, chucking his coat aside and offering a fist bump Remus ignores.

“You couldn’t have said something?” he says, but he’s not really annoyed. He wouldn’t have believed Peter if he’d told him he was talking about Sirius, anyway.

“Sirius would’ve killed me, Moony,” Peter says petulantly, ducking a curse. “Hurry up, would you?” he shouts at the others. “I’m starving!”

“You’re always hungry, Wormtail,” James says, breathless and smug as he finally pins Sirius down.

“Let’s _go_ ,” Remus says impatiently, ignoring the others wolf-whistling as he offers Sirius a hand.

James puts his coat aside and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, now Padfoot’s done being a pussy,” he tosses over his shoulder, and Remus pulls Sirius back by the hand he forgot to let go of.

It sets his heart racing all over again, and Sirius’ smile softens as Remus swings their joined hands between them. He’ll let go once they reach civilisation in the common room, but it sends a thrill through him to be allowed to do this, that Sirius likes him back. Perhaps the ball won't be unbearable after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onwards to chapter 2...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! c:

The month passes quickly, and Remus feels like he can count the number of times he and Sirius have been alone together on one hand. He doesn’t usually keep track of how often it’s just him and Sirius, but he’s sure it was more than this, even though OWLs are coming up this year and all the professors are setting monstrous piles of homework. They break apart with rueful smiles when James barges into the room, or freeze when Peter twitches in his sleep and seems to stir, and by the time the ball rolls around, Remus feels like they’ve hardly seen each other at all.

He dresses quickly. James’ old dress robes hang loose on him: James is broader in the shoulders, and Remus is resigned to always being a little underweight anyway. But they don’t fit badly by any means, and Remus isn’t ashamed when Lily appears at the top of the stairs.

Her dress is emerald green, a stunning match to her eyes, and flows soft as water, chiffon drifting around her like snow. Red hair pulled into a high bun showcases her elegant neck, and Remus can’t help but beam at her as she descends the staircase, slowly, so she doesn’t slip in her heels, and says, “You look beautiful, Lily.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” Lily teases him, “pretending you haven’t seen this dress before.”

“I can’t talk,” Remus says, gesturing to his robes. “These are on loan from James.”

Lily smiles at him, a little sadly. “You look exceptionally handsome,” she says, “but I can resize them for you, if you’d like.” She notices his hesitation, and adds, “The charm will wear off by the end of the night. Promise.”

Remus thinks of Sirius’ dress robes which he hasn’t yet seen, sure they’re impossibly expensive and he could never hope to measure up. Besides, Sirius could wear a potato sack and wear it well. “Alright,” he says cautiously. Sirius has seen him at his very worst, but something about tonight feels different, feels special. Remus isn’t sure when he’ll get such opportunity — to _impress_ , or try to — again. These are certainly the nicest robes he’ll ever wear.

So he says yes, and checks himself out in the glass reflection of one of the picture frames, ignoring the occupant’s protests.

“Thank you, Lily,” he says quietly, and she’s smiling when he turns.

“Where are the other two?” she asks.

“Probably in the bathroom fighting over the best mirror,” Remus says, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how long Sirius spends doing his hair.”

“I think I would, actually,” Lily says, laughing, and she exclaims, “Marlene! Oh, I’m glad you went with the red!”

Marlene looks stunning, her dress tight-fitting before flowing out at the bottom. It’s less scarlet and more burgundy, but Remus is sure she’ll be the centre of attention all the same. Her hair is worn loose in long waves and Remus can’t help but remember Sirius telling him he loved long hair on women. He runs a hand through his own hair, floppy enough to be tamed without product but not so short that any sparse patches left by the wolf are noticeable.

Then again, he has no idea what Sirius likes in guys.

“We’ll see you there, Remus,” Lily says, touching his arm.

Remus nods and sees them out, and when he comes back into the common room, Sirius and James are coming down the stairs. James’ new shoes are squeaking and it’s the last thing Remus registers before he looks at Sirius properly.

It’s not like he ever forgets just how _handsome_ Sirius is, but tonight he’s glowing. His dress robes are sleek and black, two red embellishments at the front sparkling like diamonds, and flatter his figure, fitting like a glove. He hasn’t done much to his hair, after all; it lies in his usual chestnut curls, one tousled carelessly over his forehead. Remus has to remind himself to breathe.

“Look at you, Moony,” Sirius says, awed. He steps forward and straightens Remus’ lapels, like he needs an excuse to touch him.

“Me?” Remus says, laughing. “You look…” _Beautiful_ , he wants to say, but people don’t really describe guys as beautiful, do they? “Handsome,” he settles on, almost shy as he makes eye contact and grins helplessly.

“I think we all look handsome,” James announces loudly, smirking when they both jump. “And sorry we’re late, but _someone_ was transfiguring his robes.”

“Transfiguring?” Remus asks, confused.

Sirius touches the red trim on his robes. “My dear mother sent them in Slytherin colours, just like Regulus’,” he says sardonically, “so I had to mend them myself.”

“That hag,” James adds helpfully. “Ready to go?”

The noise from the Great Hall can be heard all throughout the corridors, students and teachers alike chattering in the time before the ball officially starts. Platters of hors d’oeuvres float between tables, and the three of them find seats alongside Gryffindors in their year. James immediately tries and fails to catch Lily’s eye, and Remus snorts and devotes his attention to the mini sausage rolls hovering beside them. He doesn’t feel as bad as he expected, considering the full moon is two nights away, but the wolf makes no secret of its appetite.

Sirius, spurned by Marlene after attempting to start a conversation, turns back to Remus with a smirk and runs the toe of his shoe against Remus’ ankle. Remus shivers and mouths something vaguely threatening, but Sirius doesn’t move his foot; casual, secret intimacy that shouldn’t get to Remus the way it does.

The Slytherins are on the other side of the room — Regulus, and Sirius’ cousins, and even Snape, though Remus doubts he’ll dance or stay long. Regulus’ robes match Sirius’ exactly, minus the red trim, but Remus notes with a hint of pride that Sirius’ tie is ever so slightly crooked. Remus doesn’t doubt that Sirius despises family events, his tie a noose around his neck and his mother snapping at him to tuck his shirt in.

Eventually, Dumbledore opens the dance with a speech and Remus drags himself away from the food to watch the first hesitant dancers step up to the floor, preceded by Dumbledore and McGonagall. Their table starts to clear, and James watches Lily and Marlene dance with a pitifully wistful expression.

Freed from making small talk, Sirius begins a conversation about their next scheme and Remus pretends not to hear, model prefect that he is.

“You’ll never get into the Slytherin dungeons,” he comments at one point, unable to help himself.

“And that, Moony,” James says, leaning over to tap his nose, “is where you are wrong.”

Lily returns to their table eventually, flushed from dancing, and asks for Remus’ hand. Remus doesn’t envy Sirius as he and Lily walk away, his quick look back revealing James pretending to cry into Sirius’ shoulder and flipping Remus the bird.

“I’ll apologise in advance for stepping on your toes,” Remus says, taking Lily’s hand in his and quickly recapping how to lead, placing a hand on her waist.

It goes smoother than he expected, the steps quickly coming back to him as the music goes on, and Lily smiles as he twirls her, careful in her high heels. “I was worried I’d have to lead,” she jokes.

“Don’t speak too soon,” Remus says, envisioning missing a step and one of those stilettos coming down on his cracked leather shoes. “You’d probably be better at it.”

“Not a chance,” Lily says, grinning. The song changes, shifting into a higher tempo, and it’s a relief to let muscle memory take over. “Peter’s gone home, then?”

“Left a few days ago.” Remus catches a glimpse of their table over Lily’s shoulder. James is talking, but Sirius is tracking them with his eyes, smiling when he sees Remus looking.

“I hope you’ll be alright,” Lily says, tone carefully neutral, and Remus swallows. Sometimes Lily says things that make him think she knows, and despite her being the best possible person to know — trustworthy enough not to share his secret, kind enough never to hold it against him — the thought of it still fills him with panic. He knows there could be a perfectly rational explanation: he does turn up every month broken and battered, after all, and it would be reasonable to assume he’s on the delicate side, like those people who bruise at the slightest touch. He hopes that she’s drawn a similar conclusion, but she’s the brightest witch in their year, after all.

“I’ve got James and Sirius,” he says, just as carefully. “Prats though they are.”

That makes Lily laugh, and the rising tension between them dissipates. “I’ll drink to that,” she says.

They dance a while longer, passing more pleasant conversation and jointly dreading the post-Christmas prefect meeting — “I don’t know _why_ they pick Binns to present it” — and then Lily says her feet are starting to ache and she better find Marlene, anyway. Remus is all too happy to exit the dance floor when Sirius’ cousins stand and head towards them.

Sirius’ jaw is tensed when Remus returns to the table, and James rolls his eyes theatrically. “I _told_ him his face is gonna get stuck like that.”

“Clam it, Prongs.”

Remus follows his gaze. Narcissa is with Malfoy, as always, practised smile in place as they move about the floor. He doesn’t recognise Bellatrix’s partner, tall and hulking and somehow still less intimidating than her, and Sirius’ lip curls as the two of them swing by and Bellatrix shouts, “Couldn’t buy yourself a date, dog?”

They’re excellent dancers, not one missed step between them. Remus spies Regulus and Andromeda too, both of them impressive in a quiet, unobtrusive way. Sirius claims the two of them are the most tolerable, particularly Andromeda, but at school Remus has never known them to be anything but cold, guarded, aloof. Terrifying, the lot of them. He should have known the ball would turn into a pissing contest.

“I’m not letting that hag get one over on me,” Sirius spits. He swings himself upright and, to Remus’ horror, extends a hand.

“No,” Remus blurts out, conscious of getting in the middle. “No way. You’ve seen me dance. I’m wearing James’ old dress robes! I’m _me_!”

“That’s exactly why I need you,” Sirius pleads, expression beseeching.

“I can’t.” He hesitates, during which time a gleam of hope enters Sirius’ eyes. “I just can’t.”

“I’ll lead,” Sirius says, tone wavering for the first time. The _duh_ is implied. He bites his bottom lip, one of his few tells, and Remus hates that he makes Sirius feel nervous, hates shaking Sirius’ already undeserved confidence in him. “Please, Remus. You’re my date, remember?”

Remus goes pink and shakes his head with finality. A wounded expression crosses Sirius’ face, just for a moment, but he quickly collects himself and strides past Remus. “Prongs!”

They play it for laughs, charging onto the dance floor amid fits of laughter from other students, but the laughter quickly stops when they begin dancing. Sirius leads James in the dance sure and strong, as impressive as any of his cousins, if not more so. He’d once estimated the number of family-held parties and balls he’s attended as in the hundreds at least, in addition to enforced cotillion classes throughout his childhood. James, his family almost as rich but not as ancient, laughs himself to the floor every time it comes up, but he’s holding his own, his footwork just as intricate. Remus follows his gaze and catches Lily staring, her eyebrows drawn together and foot tapping to the beat.

The warm feeling in his chest at Lily’s display of tolerance towards James, if not affection, makes him look for Sirius, to try to catch his eye. Sirius’ gaze slides over him, neutral, and guilt expands beneath Remus’ ribs like a bomb primed to explode. He curses himself for his lack of courage, his shyness; compared to Sirius’ confidence, even arrogance at the worst of times, Remus fails to understand what Sirius sees in him at all.

It’s suddenly too hot in the crowded hall, too many bodies and too much happiness and too much _love_ , like snowflakes melting into rain when Remus reaches for them. He feels sick, almost knocking his chair over when he stands and unable to spare it a second glance before he’s outside, taking deep lungfuls of cool, crisp air and staring hatefully at the moon.

He isn’t alone out here — there are couples milling about between the bushes, leaves shining black in the moonlight, the sounds of hushed giggles and intimate whispers almost making Remus want to ditch the whole thing and run back to his dormitory. Remus walks until he can’t hear anyone, even with his enhanced hearing, and sits heavily on a bench as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and not just a silly argument between friends.

Because that’s what they are, he and Sirius — friends, because Remus wrecked the prospect of more the second it was within reach. He leans back and looks at the courtyard, drumming his wand aimlessly against his knee.

He supposes the kicker is that it felt like a test, Sirius asking him to stand with him against his family, and it was a test Remus failed. He wishes he were laid-back like James, loyal like Peter, confident like Sirius — but he’s just not. Remus is shy, and self-conscious, qualities made ever-worse by the dark secret he carries around inside him.

“Better not be beating yourself up,” comes Sirius’ voice out of the darkness, and seconds later he appears, sleek cloak stirring the grass.

“It’s my one talent,” Remus deadpans.

“Shut up,” Sirius says, and his clear lack of a real retort makes Remus stifle a laugh. “Thought you’d abandoned me.”

Remus’ sudden humour dissipates like smoke on the wind. “I already did that,” he mutters. “Look, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Sirius interrupts. “ _I’m_ sorry. You know how it can get with my family… I’m just sorry I dragged you into it.”

“I’m a coward,” Remus says. He wants to frame it as a joke, but his voice comes out small and sad and ashamed, and he bows his head.

Sirius’ hand is gentle when it touches his cheek, encouraging Remus to look at him. “Moony, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known,” he breathes. “No one else could live the life you’ve lived and still turn out so…” Sirius blushes, then, and Remus wants to chase after that thought, desperately wants to know what Sirius thinks of him. “So wonderful,” Sirius finishes jerkily, like the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. Remus can’t remember Sirius ever using the word _wonderful_ before, and it lights a fire in his heart.

Before he can speak, scramble together some response to things he never thought he’d hear from anyone, let alone Sirius, Sirius holds out his hand.

This time, Remus takes it.

Sirius pulls him to his feet, stepping away from the bench, and places a hand on Remus’ waist. “Didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you?” Sirius jokes weakly, but he’s vulnerable, eyes scanning Remus’ face for a rejection, as if Remus has ever been able to say no to Sirius.

Outside of his own head at last, Remus realises they can still hear the music, a muffled reverberation from inside the Great Hall, all the chatter of other students washed away and leaving intimacy in its wake.

They begin to the pace of the music, careful in the damp grass, and Remus laughs when Sirius twirls and dips him, their faces close for a fraction of a second before Sirius’ eyes widen and they straighten once more. Remus is conscious of a moment slipping away from them, conscious that time begins to move thick as molasses and Sirius seems to look directly into his soul, into every hidden feeling Remus keeps buried.

The moonlight is clear, illuminating the proud angles of Sirius’ face and, Remus is sure, illuminating every off-putting scar on his own face, marred and ugly since before he could remember. There’s nothing romantic about the moon, not for them, but the stars are bright tonight, crisp in the clear sky, and Remus looks for Sirius and finds it shining high above them. They’re closer now, drawn helplessly into each other’s orbit, and Remus feels _right_ , like everything has slotted into place at last.

“Stop looking at that stupid star,” Sirius says against his hair. “Look at me instead.”

And Remus does, and Sirius’ gaze dips to his mouth and he leans in, their noses brushing, and he waits. Remus’ heart starts racing, flustered by his inexperience, but he manages it, pressing their mouths together and feeling Sirius smile into the kiss. Sirius winds an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies closer even as they break apart and come together again. He coaxes Remus’ lips to move against his, keeping things gentle, gentle, and Remus’ hand comes to Sirius’ arm, heart beating out of his chest as he learns to kiss back, learns when to tilt his head and when to let Sirius come to him.

“Was that your first kiss?” Sirius murmurs, their proximity torturous as Remus tries to kiss him again and Sirius leans out of his reach, earnest gaze making Remus’ stomach flip over.

“Padfoot,” Remus says, frustrated, and then, “You know it was.”

“I hoped,” Sirius corrects him with a smirk, and this time when he kisses Remus it’s different, hotter, more like Remus imagined it in dreams that would leave him aching in the morning. Sirius pulls Remus’ bottom lip into his mouth and licks at it, licks into Remus’ mouth when he opens it in surprise.

And it’s good, it’s so good and Remus’ hand slides up to tangle in Sirius’ hair, that irritatingly effortless fall of curls that Remus has always wanted to run his hands through. Sirius’ hand is low on Remus’ hip and Remus wants to move it lower, sliding his tongue into Sirius’ mouth and shivering at the thrill of it. He pulls back to breathe, further emboldened when Sirius follows him, drawn like a magnet, as if Remus could ask for anything and Sirius would give it.

His eyes shine black as his hair in the moonlight and Remus holds him tighter, pressing his face against Sirius’ shoulder.

“You’re too tall for that now,” Sirius says.

“Don’t care,” Remus says petulantly.

Sirius snorts, and Remus can feel him tipping his head back, looking up at his star, or perhaps the moon, full to bursting and hanging dutifully above them. He wishes they could stay here forever, wishes that he didn’t already feel the gnawing bone-aches and yawning hunger of the wolf inside him, only two days from release.

“Do you want to go back?” Sirius asks, and Remus fantasises for a second about staying here, just the two of them, wrapped up in this darkness and this moment. Safe. Happy.

He hasn’t lingered on thoughts about how this will work, having this relationship in secret, safe in their dormitory but nowhere else. How odd it will seem for Sirius to quit being a player, to go apparently monogamous with someone their classmates will never know the identity of, but will doubtless try to find out. Remus wonders if it’s fair; he’s accustomed to keeping secrets, all too ready to have another thing he keeps hidden in his pocket, but Sirius isn’t, because Sirius has never cared how people talk about him, never cared what news makes it back to his cousins, to Regulus, and finally to his mother.

“Yes,” he says, late, and Sirius looks at him then, curious and perhaps a little afraid. “I’m… I’m just tired.”

“We’ll get you through it,” Sirius reassures him, assuming of course he’s talking about the full moon. And he is, but not entirely.

They don’t quite sneak through the Great Hall, but Remus is relieved that people don’t bother to look at the new arrivals, focused on their partners. It’s that time in the night where the music slows and the lights draw down and everyone who remains doesn’t want to leave. It’s James Remus is worried about, sure he wouldn’t leave without being sure of their whereabouts, but Lily, it seems, has finally accepted James’ hand. James wouldn’t have seen them if they were standing right in front of him.

He catches Lily’s eye though, heart stopping at being ‘caught’ despite the healthy distance between him and Sirius, despite Sirius’ hand only ghosting over his own as he walked beside him, not daring to reach out. Remus gestures between them, then points upstairs, and Lily nods, a tiny movement that doesn’t draw James’ attention. Remus smiles back, and once they slip out of the Great Hall, the noise disappears all at once.

“Well in, Prongs!” Sirius exclaims, looking as relieved as Remus feels to be free of the throng of people. “Merlin, I never thought she’d say yes.”

“Maybe his luck’s turning,” Remus says. He’s happy for James, he is, but there’s undeniable bitterness that should anything happen between Lily and James it’ll be public, it’ll be kisses in the common room and holding hands in the corridors. Something he and Sirius can’t have, not yet, but maybe not ever.

“Ah, he’ll be insufferable,” Sirius says, but he’s full of glee and he grabs Remus’ hand as they walk, buoyed up by excitement. It makes Remus’ heart stop in his chest, throat closing up and preventing him from speaking, but he grins at Sirius, swinging their joined hands between them. The corridors are empty, everyone gone or at the ball or asleep, and Remus finds he doesn’t need the Map to feel secure for once, confidence born of real, genuine happiness.

The common room isn’t empty, but Sirius doesn’t drop his hand and Remus swells with warmth, smiling to himself as Sirius acts nonchalant despite his grip tightening. They reach the dormitory without incident and Remus is all too happy to exchange the dress robes for loose pyjamas. Even in winter, Remus overheats as the full moon closes in; the wolf runs hotter than he does.

He brushes his teeth half in a daze, lost in how the cool night air felt on his skin, holding Sirius to him, the two of them dancing in starlight.

When he comes back into the dormitory, Sirius is hovering by his bed. “Would it be weird if we kissed goodnight?”

Sirius knows Remus sleeps better in his own bed, but what Sirius doesn’t know is that Remus sleeps better with _him_ , Sirius’ knees pressed up against his thighs and the whole long line of him warm against Remus’ back.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Remus says, pulling down the covers of his bed, and blushes furiously upon realising how it sounded. “I didn't mean… I meant…” Sirius is grinning now, watching Remus flounder. “Stay with me?” Remus finally gets out, hesitant like he’s offering Sirius half of his heart rather than half of his bed, and _oh_.

He feels vulnerable in a way he hadn’t since the Marauders confronted him with evidence regarding his monthly absences, like he’s giving up another piece of his soul, willingly this time. Remus was used to falling a little bit in love, watching from afar and knowing the person would never look back at him, but he fell _hard_ for Sirius, fell over days and weeks and months and years in this castle with his best friends.

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius says, which is how Remus knows this is real and not something he’s dreamed up — otherwise, he’s sure Sirius would’ve spouted some sentimental crap like _Always_. “Right, move over.”

They face each other, just like last time, but closer, and Remus holds his breath as Sirius leans in, their noses brushing.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Sirius murmurs.

“Giving me warning this time?” Remus whispers. “How kind of—“

He thinks he hears, “Shut up, Moony,” before Sirius kisses him, insistent and needy, coming back again and again amid gasps for breath and the feeling that tonight is special, something for them rather than something shared between four.

They break apart panting, Remus pink-cheeked and sure Sirius is too, though the lights are off and Remus can see little besides the sharp angles of Sirius’ face by the light of the moon outside.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Sirius says quietly.

“Believe me, I know,” Remus says. He can see the curve of Sirius’ smile in the dark and it warms him from the inside.

“We better get some sleep,” Sirius says, with some reluctance.

“You being the sensible one for once?”

Sirius laughs, one hand coming up to trace Remus’ cheekbone, angular from weight loss rather than good breeding. “Full moon tomorrow.”

Remus makes a face before closing his eyes, curling closer against Sirius’ chest.

“Moony.”

“What?”

“Turn over,” Sirius says. “Or you won’t sleep.”

“You know me so well,” Remus says, almost dreamily, and he turns in Sirius’ arms, smiling as Sirius holds him tighter.

Remus isn’t an easy sleeper, tossing and turning for hours before he drifts off, but he feels secure, safe, in a way he hasn’t for a long time. He puts his hand on Sirius’ where it’s looped around his middle, and falls asleep in minutes, thinking that parties aren’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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